Thursday, January 26, 2012

As writers, we create our images with words, not unlike an artist painting on a canvas. Leaving a little bit of ourselves and what we desire within that work. As we create, we wonder what it would be like to actually do some of things we write about. I have been lucky in one respect, single and freer than most, and able to actually act upon some of those desires. Other writers, happy and committed, use this medium as a way of experiencing or exploring those desires.

But each of us stop at some point and read our own work and think about the characters and actions we describe, and the desire we feel for the "form" we have created with those words. Lovingly and with passion, we strive to put our hearts into it or we would not be doing this.

One photo. The limits of "our canvas"? No more than 100 words. Creating that lust, and longing and desire. As always, I welcome your thoughts and impressions.

The Live Canvas of Her Desire

Her charcoal swiftly outlining Robbie’s form one more time. The desire in his eyes, his need for Hailey, felt like waves crashing against her.

Fingers smudging the charcoal to create those beautiful shadows.Wishing she could trace with her tongue, those same lines on his body.

Suddenly she looked up from the canvas and he stood before her,hard and aroused.Taking her hand in his, he placed it upon his thigh…

"Trace me, not that cold canvas?"his husky voice pleaded.

Neither her hand nor heart hesitated, as she began to create upon the live canvas standing before her.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Once some women reach a certain age, they make the mistake of shying away from the years as they pass. Never facing or saying the truth of it. Letting society and certain misguided beauty standards of youth convince them to muffle the truth of it.

Others, like myself, realized long ago, that they are just numbers. It is not the numbers that really matter, it is simply the life you live and how you live it even as the numbers change.I face each number gladly because it means one more year on this earth…one more year passing that I will always look back for the good things that happened and leave the bad behind.Allowing me to look ahead at the great things to come….So each year that I add, I shout that number in joy! I hope I can still shout it at a 100!

I am not adding this to the official Flash Fiction Friday page because I have doubled the word count and can't seem to figure out a way to reduce it…lolol...but I wanted my fellow writers and others to see it….I hope my friends won’t mind and give me a little leg room (hehehehe!) and just consider it a birthday present to let me get away with this…lolol….since it truly is MY 52nd birthday!

I hope you enjoy my offering and celebrate with me! If you find this, since it is not linked, make sure to visit the link below to find the words of my wonderful friends and their "official" flash fiction for the week......

Adding Another Year...A Little Sideways!

I have to say it, I just have to!

It is just after midnight. Sitting on the stool, facing the mirror, wearing only my black thigh-high stockings and nothing else. My large, rose colored nipples still hard as buttons, my eyes bright and awake, aware, despite the mind blowing fuck I had just experienced. I laughed as I looked at myself in the mirror, ‘cause I knew that inside me, nothing had changed.

Suddenly, I felt him behind me. Licking my full red swollen lips, I started to say the words…..

"Today is..." The rest was swiftly cut off as his beautiful hand covered my mouth.

Laughing against his fingers, I let my tongue tickle his palm and swipe in between a few of those fingers until he released me.Turning me on the stool to face him, he kneeledbetween my silken, still wet thighs and pulled me close to his chest.

“Go ahead, say it, I know you have to”. He said as he flashed that devilish smile at me.

“Today is my birthday, I’m 52.”I blurted it out.

“Does it bother you, my love?" I asked him as I arched one of my dark eyebrows at him inquiringly.

“Sweety, 52 or 502, it doesn’t matter.” He looked down between us at his still hard, thick cock…then looked back up at me, cocked his head to the side and grinned back at me.

“I would still want to fuck you...sideways." He responded, his voice deep and sexy.

Grinning wickedly at him, I giggled as I pushed him back down on the floor in front of the stool, hoping for my first real birthday present of the day.

“Prove it…sideways!” I gasped as he quickly turned me to my side, hiking one of my black clad legs behind his hip and thrust that deliciously hard, thick swollen cock as deep as he could inside my wet pussy.

Moaning deep and low at the fullness of him inside me, almost passing out as the hot waves of passion began to take me over, I thought....

What is the age of my mentality?52 or 25?

Does it really matter to a woman with a man such as this between her thighs ….sideways???? LOLOLOL.

I don't think so....hell, I am not thinking about those numbers at all at that point...would you be?

Friday, January 6, 2012

Our first Flash Fiction of 2012 and our first full weekend. I know what this woman wants. The same thing the I do. When I want it, how I want it. This is the year I take what I want, and hopefully give just as much. It's another FFF......one photo, each week, 100 words only to express how we feel about a photo. This is my take on a sultry siren who knows how to grab life. I hope I have the same guts to take what I want this year! As always, I welcome any and all comments....please take the time to let me know what you think.

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Take What You Want

She knew the session had been great!Each time she heard the click of the camera, she expected that to be the last photo. Yet he kept asking for more.

“What do you want?” she pouted.

“Give me what you gave Him last night,” he replied.

The hot jealous look now in his eyes told her that he knew that she had been riding another long hard cock last night, and he wanted some.

She gave him what he asked for.The look of a woman who took what she wanted, when she wanted it! Right now, she wanted him!

Shorts and Previews of S.E. Darling

About the Author

Sancre (pronounced San- Seer) is a poet and writer of erotica and erotic fiction. Currently living in eastern North Carolina, Sancre believes that life is to be explored openly. Love, sex, and fantasy are just a few of lifes pure joys; to be experienced, to be expressed, and to be enjoyed fully. Fantasy is a part of that.